


i am just a broken machine and i do things that i don't really mean

by loonylu



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Adjusting to New Circumstances, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Blood and Injury, Cutting, Depression, Flashbacks, Gun Violence, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Injury Recovery, M/M, Medical Trauma, Misunderstandings, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rita is Perfect and Can Do No Wrong, Scars, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Sexual Content, hard conversations, juno tries so hard to be honest with the people who love him, nureyev is real insecure tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-12 10:36:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18444824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loonylu/pseuds/loonylu
Summary: Vespa turns and stares him down. “There was no reason for you to get shot today, Steel,” she says, dark eyes flashing. Then she is gone.Alone in the dark infirmary, breathing shallowly, Juno understands this perfectly. Do a better job. Don’t get shot next time. Protect your team and don’t get hurt.





	i am just a broken machine and i do things that i don't really mean

**Author's Note:**

> i really should not have spent all day writing this??????? my angst levels are off the charts and i have a document with over 20k words of penumbra fic in it?????????? 
> 
> warnings for self harm, low self esteem, injuries, and depression
> 
> title from "cry for judas" by the mountain goats

“Next time, don’t get shot, okay Steel?” Vespa snaps after their second mission, cutting a suture thread with perhaps more force than necessary. This is how it begins.

 

Juno is hazy from blood loss, slumped where Jet had bodily set him down on the cold infirmary table, but he’s viciously proud of his role in taking down a Venusian trafficking ring. Even if it ended with a bullet through his thigh – he gave Buddy the coverage she needed to slip her knife between the kingpin’s third and fourth rib. And then Juno had promptly passed out in a pool of his own blood, so he’s a bit hazy on how the rest of it went, but he’s mostly conscious now?

 

“’Kay,” he says after a bit, mouth cottony. Blood loss is a bitch, he thinks.

 

“I’m gonna go see if any of the people we rescued are injured,” Vespa says, throwing her bloody pliers on a nearby tray and stripping off her gloves. “Don’t fucking try to walk. I’ll check on you in a bit.”

 

Juno nods. Doesn’t have the energy to grumble.

 

Vespa turns and stares him down. “There was no reason for you to get shot today, Steel,” she says, dark eyes flashing. Then she is gone.

 

Alone in the dark infirmary, breathing shallowly, Juno understands this perfectly. Do a better job. Don’t get shot next time. Protect your team and don’t get hurt.

 

+++

 

They’re sitting around the breakfast table two weeks later, everyone but Rita and Vespa, when it comes up again. Juno and Peter are studiously avoiding looking at each other, as they have the entire month Juno and Rita have been part of this little team. It’s exhausting, but Juno thinks

 

Juno is not a breakfast person. It’s always seemed like something for people with more stable lives than his. So he slowly sips his coffee and tries not to make eye contact with anyone. He’s not anyone’s favorite person these days, he knows. So he tries to stay as far out of the way as he can, struggling through physical therapy exercises for his leg and laying motionless for hours in his quarters thinking about Nureyev’s sharp smile. Not Nureyev, he chides himself, Anais Lim. Anais. The cadence feels wrong, too short somehow to capture someone so much larger than life. But Anais is very similar to Nureyev, in speech and mannerism, so Juno sends silent thanks out towards the universe for small mercies.

 

“If we disguise Juno as Anais’s bodyguard, someone is definitely getting shot. Most likely Juno,” Buddy says seriously as Juno tunes back into the conversation.

 

“I can protect Nu – Anais,” Juno protests. He’s not useless.

 

“I’m worried you’ll find yourself at the wrong end of a blaster, dear, it’s too dangerous – stealing from a Jupiterian monarch, even a minor emperor, is sure to involve several heavily armed bodyguards. And honestly, are you even up to the task right now with your leg?” Buddy smiles sharply. “We’ll need to rely on Anais’s ability to go undercover. Anais, darling?”

 

Nureyev raises his perfect eyebrows. “Of course,” he drawls. “We mustn’t risk the detective unnecessarily. No need for… blunt force... when other methods will do.”

 

Juno flushes bright red and takes a sip of coffee to try to hide his face. He’s trying so hard to recover from the leg injury. To not be useless.

 

“Juno, I plan to have you pose as a bartender in the palace. You’ll be able to smuggle in the sedative, while Anais poses as a concubine to get close to the emperor,” Buddy says matter-of-factly.

 

He chokes on his coffee. A concubine.

 

“It’d be easier to go in guns blazing,” Buddy says thoughtfully as Juno recovers, “but someone would almost certainly get shot again, which would be terribly inconvenient.” She smiles at him. “I know Vespa doesn’t want to see you in the medbay again for quite a while, Juno.”

 

Juno nods. “Okay,” he says. “I’ll go as a bartender, but nobody goes in unarmed. Just in case.”

 

“Of course, darling, we’re not amateurs,” Buddy purrs.

 

Juno feels like an amateur, usually. A liability.

 

+++

 

When Juno sheds his bloodstained bartender’s uniform after the heist, he realizes some of the blood is his own. A laser grazed his side in the inevitable firefight, and a narrow gouge is sluggishly dripping blood down his ribs. But they won. And that’s what’s important.

 

When they meet a few hours later for the post-mission debrief, Juno has mostly stopped the bleeding with an old shirt pressed to his side. They all settle around the table in the mess, and Rita serves muffins. Juno is used to Rita’s baking, and crumbles the muffin into little pieces so it looks like he’s eating it. He snorts at Jet’s wide eyes after taking a small bite. Jet delicately pushes his plate away. Rita can be a bit creative when it comes to flavors.

 

Vespa places her palms flat on the table. Juno knows that trick, to keep your hands from trembling visibly. She surveys the crew. Everyone is upright, nobody is visibly bleeding. A success. “First things first. Any injuries I haven’t seen yet?”

 

Nureyev shrugs. “You saw to my shoulder,” he says nonchalantly.

 

“What happened? Is he okay?” Juno asks before his brain has a chance to catch up with his mouth.

 

“Just dislocated, Juno,” Nureyev murmurs, not looking at him.

 

Juno blushes. “That’s… good. Not that you were injured, just –“

 

Vespa cuts him off. “Steel, any injuries? You were deep in the firefight while we were on the way to the Ruby Seven.”

 

“Nah,” Juno says. It’s not entirely a lie – he’s still functional, and there’s not much Vespa could do for him anyway.

 

“In that case – let’s all get some sleep and reconvene in the morning,” Buddy advises. “Next step is for us to meet our fence on Chyron Seven. But that can wait until tomorrow, darlings.”

 

Rita interrupts. “Doesn’t anyone want more muffins?”

 

+++

 

Juno’s side reopens over and over again until it finally scabs over, then the skin knits together, leaving him with a raised, ropy scar. No one notices. Juno spends a lot of time in the middle of the night trying to get blood out of his shirts. This is why he wears black, he reminds himself grimly while he’s up to his elbows in pink-tinged water.

 

+++

 

The other thing Juno hates about living in space is the unavailability of alcohol. Because Juno goes nowhere without fully-stocked pockets, he has a single flask of whiskey on his person when he arrives on board. He’s tried to save it, to keep it for a day he needs emotional or literal anesthetic, but he quickly found that Nureyev’s presence was enough to have him reaching for the flask on a daily basis. So now, he’s made a flask of whiskey last as long as it can, but he’s shit out of luck for finding more.

 

Jet doesn’t drink. Rita didn’t bring alcohol. He’s not stupid enough to ask Vespa or Buddy to share. He and Nureyev aren’t talking. His brain is moving, spiraling down to where it always does when he thinks about what an absolute waste of space he is.

 

So when everything rises up and threatens to drown him, immobilize him and keep him from doing good _that’s what you’re for -_ he has to come up with other methods. He feels like a ticking bomb, like he’s going to explode soon if Nureyev doesn’t look at him but also that he has no right to ask anything of Nureyev, ever again. Living with other people means he needs to implode, not explode.

 

He’s lying in bed. Breathing hard. It must be near morning now. It is the thirty-ninth night he’s spent with this crew, he reminds himself, and they are going to Chyron Seven to fence the stolen royal jewels of Jupiter or some bullshit Juno could care less about.

 

This isn’t the first time he’s had to get creative about how he keeps the tide at bay. There was the weeks after Benzaiten died, where Juno wanted so badly to join him, but there was also the period while he was in the academy where he got drug-tested regularly, and the bit of time just after he quit drugs that he did this, but. He’d stopped before. On a body as scarred as his, what’s a few more?

 

So Juno flips on the lamp and rummages in his bedside drawer until he comes up with a pocketknife. Not a plasma cutter, just plain sharp metal. Juno wears boxer shorts to bed, so it’s simple to lean over and run the knife lightly over his thigh. Nothing happens. Juno shuts his eyes and presses a bit harder and is rewarded by beads of blood welling up. He smiles weakly and does it again. All shallow. All superficial. Nothing that would affect his usefulness to the team.

 

But he can breathe again, so he does. He falls asleep like that, sprawled on top of his blankets, knife still in his hand. He does not dream.

 

In the morning, he watches the dried blood melt away, circle the shower drain, leaving only imperceptible pink lines. He smiles.

 

+++

 

The next week is better. Juno has more of a handle on himself, feels less like he’s going to turn into a black hole and take everyone with him.

 

He and Nureyev don’t often do meals with the rest of the crew. Juno never got into the habit of feeding himself regularly – children who care for themselves tend to eat when they’re hungry or when there is food at all, not three times a day – and he suspects Nureyev feels similarly.

 

He’s on his way to the kitchen, it’s nine in the evening, and everyone but Juno is watching a stream in the tiny rec room. It’s Rita’s latest attempt at bonding, and Juno plans to make an appearance if only to make her happy, but first he’s hungry. It’s taken a while for Juno to understand that he’s allowed any of the food in the kitchen, that the cost of the groceries is split six ways and deducted from his cut of the profits. He still feels like he’s stealing food. Back in Hyperion, Juno kept food around him at all times, in his coat and in his desk drawer and under his bed, just in case. He was never sure what it was in case of, but it helped him breathe easier sometimes, so he let it go. Rita called it a coping mechanism once, but Juno is studiously not thinking about that.

 

Here, he tries hard not to hoard food. Tries to be an adult and eat in the kitchen like a real person. So he misses dinner – not intentionally, he just loses time sometimes – and decides to make himself a sandwich.

 

The kitchen is occupied. Nureyev is there, standing idly by the microwave. Juno nearly turns around and goes back to his room, but instead he presses a thumb to a deeper cut on his hip and lets the sting ground him.

 

“Hello, detective,” Nureyev says, eyes following Juno.

 

“Hi, Anais,” Juno says hoarsely.

 

“Did you miss dinner as well?” Nureyev asks. “I got so caught up in practicing my Chyronese accent, I missed it completely.” The microwave dings, and Peter pulls out his plate of leftovers and gracefully sits at the table.

 

“Yeah,” Juno says. “Missed dinner.” He starts to pull out the materials for his sandwich, starts to assemble them as quickly as possible.

 

“Juno?”

 

Juno’s mouth is dry. “Yes?”

 

“Could you pass me that bottle?” Nureyev gestures.

 

Juno hands it over wordlessly. Their hands touch as Juno passes over the bottle, and their eyes meet.

 

Juno doesn’t want to subject Nureyev to Juno’s bullshit. Doesn’t want Nureyev to get more hurt. But he has to say something. “Nureyev, I – “

 

Something in Nureyev’s eyes shutters. “Who?”

 

“Okay, fine, Anais, I just wanted to apologize to you for -” Juno begins.

 

Nureyev cuts him off. “I don’t want to hear it, Juno,” he says sharply, but not unkindly. “I left the person you knew behind in that hotel room. I am not Peter Nureyev. You have no one to apologize to. I need you to respect that.”

 

And Juno does not know what to say to that, so he nods, and he puts away his sandwich components. And he leaves.

 

 

+++

 

Their contact sells them out on Chyron Seven. Juno, Buddy, and Jet are running from a pack of Jupiterian special forces, trying to get to the Ruby Seven before anyone gets shot. Juno doesn’t know where Nureyev has gone.

 

“Where’s Lim?” Juno pants to Jet.

 

“I do not know,” Jet says, “but Anais is highly capable. Please continue running.”

 

Juno can’t argue with that logic and refocuses his energy on running just before slamming into into a single Jupiterian soldier. Quick as a flash, the soldier has him in a headlock, knife at his throat. Everything stops. Jet and Buddy freeze.

 

“Got one,” the lone soldier says from behind his helmet.

 

“Great work, Nelson,” one of the soldiers chasing them says. “You,” he points roughly at Buddy, “tell us where the jewels are, and we won’t kill the lady.”

 

Buddy puts on a good show of considering it. “I…”

 

Juno’s been struggling for a good thirty seconds before he recognizes the calm grip. The smell. Nureyev. He relaxes, minutely, held close against Nureyev’s body. Even in mortal danger, wishing for what he can’t have. A bead of blood rolls down his neck.

 

Jet and Buddy’s eyes meet, and then they pull out their blasters and begin firing on the guards. Nureyev releases Juno instantly – more of a push away from him, Juno’s bruised ego notes as he stumbles – and starts firing as well. In seconds, the half-dozen soldiers are down.

 

Peter shoves his blaster into his holster, strides over to Juno, and grabs him roughly. Part of Juno is _very_ into that, but mostly he’s confused. Peter is patting him down desperately, not meeting his eyes.

 

“Juno, are you all right,” Nureyev says urgently. “Did I hurt you?”

 

“No, no, I’m okay, I’m okay,” Juno says breathlessly, hands tight on Nureyev’s . “It’s a scratch, I swear.”

 

“Touching as this is, darlings, we need to move,” Buddy says loudly.

 

Somehow, Peter’s hand stays in Juno’s until they reach the Ruby Seven.

 

+++

 

It’s even harder when Nureyev doesn’t speak to him for five days after the Chyron clusterfuck. Juno mopes and tries to avoid other crew members. He’s in his quarters a lot.

 

Juno is not sleeping. His nightmares are getting worse than they have been in years. He’s convinced he hears Turbo around every corner, feels Jack’s hands twisted in his hair, feels his mother’s hand against his cheek. Feels Benzaiten’s blood on his hands. He wakes up gasping every night.

 

Fuck Ramses. Fuck the THEIA. Fuck Mars. He’s done with it all. He’s done with the buried things in his head.

 

The only thing that pulls him out of the swirling panic is the pocketknife. He’s got a deep cut at the base of his thumb now, that he can press on when he feels the dissociation coming on. He reopens it regularly. He feels Nureyev’s arm against his chest, the solid weight of him at Juno’s back and a lightning-sharp knife at his throat.

 

Juno turns onto his side and cries.

 

+++

 

“You okay, boss?” Rita asks. “I ask just cause you’re pouring orange juice into your coffee.” She points.

 

“Uh.” Juno shakes his head, trying to clear the grogginess. “Sorry, Rita.”

 

“No need to apologize, boss,” she says, hopping up to sit on the counter, legs kicking the cabinets. “How are ya, Mistah Steel?”

 

“What do you mean?” Juno asks dumbly.

 

“Well, Jet told me about the Chyron thing! Where Mistah Lim had to hold a knife to your throat! Like in _Celestial Bodies_ , the stream about space zombies where Nessa the zombie hunter has to pretend to be a zombie but her girlfriend Zora doesn’t know about it, and – “

 

Juno cuts her off. “Rita, I’m sorry, but can you please get to the point? My head is killing me.”

 

“Well, you thought Anais was gonna kill you, right? And I know your partners usually beat you up, I patched you up enough times, but that’s gotta be intense – “

 

Juno groans. “Rita. Anais is not my partner.”

 

Rita frowns. “Yeah he is!”

 

“No, he’s not, Rita – “

 

“Yeah! He is! You loooooove him, boss.”

 

Juno opens his mouth to say something that was definitely going to be mature, when Nureyev walks into the room. It’s been five days since the Chyron heist.

 

“Who does Juno love, Rita?” Nureyev asks absently, putting the kettle on to boil.

 

“Nobody!” Rita squeaks and runs from the room with a significant look at Juno.

 

Juno sits heavily. “Sorry, Anais,” he says.

 

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Nureyev says breezily, dunking a teabag.

 

They sit awkwardly for a minute, not looking at each other.

 

Juno takes a deep breath. This has been a long time coming, and he needs to ask for the good of the team. “Can I ask you something?”

 

Nureyev’s eyes flick up. He nods cautiously.

 

“Is there anything I can do to… not be in your way? I don’t want our, well, our history to make you uncomfortable.” Juno presses the weeping scar on his hand.

 

“That’s considerate, Juno,” Nureyev says seriously. “We are part of a team, and we need to work together better than we do currently. What do you suggest?”

 

Juno has no clue. “I… I don’t know. Should we… talk?” He looks at Nureyev for a fraction of a second.

 

Nureyev frowns. “Probably,” the thief admits.

 

“Whatever we could have had…” Juno starts, “I want to be friends. If that’s what you want. It’s all on your terms.”

 

Nureyev’s eyes narrow, and he opens his mouth.

 

Then the alarms blare and Buddy’s voice is on the intercom. “Fucking hell,” she says, echoing through the ship. “The Jupiterian bastards caught up to us. We’re being boarded.” Juno and Nureyev jump to their feet, reaching for knives and blasters.

 

Things go to hell very quickly after that.

 

+++

 

Juno wakes up in the infirmary, ribs on fire. He lets out a garbled moan.

 

“He needs more pain meds, Vespa,” he hears a silky voice say. Juno loves that voice. The pain sinks back down and Juno sleeps again.

 

When he wakes up, he’s more lucid. He’s bandaged around his midsection. Judging by the location and radius of the pain, he got shot through the lung. Fuck.

 

He opens his eye. It’s dark, but this is not his room. No. No no no no. He can’t be in the infirmary. Vespa already hates him. He needs to leave. If he’s in the infirmary he’s useless. Useless and bad and –

 

“Boss?” Rita says sleepily. She’s sitting across the room in an armchair, curled up with a blanket. “Y’awake?”

 

Juno can’t do anything but hyperventilate. He’s crying, writhing, he wants to run out of the room, but his body won’t cooperate.

 

“Boss? Boss what’s wrong? What’s going on?” Rita jumps to her feet. “I’m gonna get Vespa, hang on, please keep breathing boss – “

 

“No no no no no,” Juno bites out. “No Vespa. Please, Rita, no Vespa, I’m fine, please just – “

 

“You ain’t fine, boss! Your lung got all deflated and then Vespa had to re-inflate it! Like a balloon!”

 

“Yeah, but I’m fine now,” Juno croaks. “Can you please just help me get back to my room?” In one motion, Juno rips his IV from his arm, gasping at the pain.

 

“What? No! Put that back in right now or so help me – “

 

“No, Rita, you don’t get it, I need to go – “

 

“What the fuck is going on?” A shadowy figure stands in the doorway.

 

Juno loses the thread of where and when he is. The figure in the doorway is suddenly his mother, screaming, angry. Juno pushes himself up to a sitting position, ignores the pain, reaches for Benzaiten, puts his body between his mother and Ben’s, what is she going to do to him please please please ma don’t –

 

Something crashes to the floor and Juno braces for impact. This is it. He’s nine and thirty nine and Ben is Rita and Rita is Ben and the figure in the doorway is too tall to be Ma but it’s _Ma –_ and the darkness is swallowing him whole and he flails out wildly, please Ma don’t hurt Ben –

 

“Jet! Get in here!” Is that Ma’s voice? Juno has no idea -

 

A big voice. Jack. Hands on his shoulders. Juno screams as loud as he can and he feels like he’s been punched in the chest - 

 

“Juno. You must calm down,” voice coming to him like he’s underwater, holding him pinning him down _no jack please don’t please_

Juno’s eye is screwed shut. He feels warmth trickling down his stomach and his arm.

 

“Jet, we have to sedate him, he ripped out his stitches – “

 

Big arms, around him, lifting him up, winding around him like Miasma’s tentacles and keeping every limb still. “Jack, please don’t – “ Juno wails.

 

Then a needle slides into the meat of his arm and everything falls away.

 

+++

 

Juno comes to tied loosely to a bed. Everything hurts. His mouth tastes like death. It’s bright when he opens his eye.

 

“Kinky,” he mutters.

 

“Sadly, it is not,” a smooth voice says from beside him.

 

“Peter?” Juno asks without thinking, trying to twist to see him. “Peter, what happened? What’s going on?”

 

“Settle down,” Nureyev says. Juno feels a hand drag through his hair. “It’s Wednesday evening. You haven’t woken up since Tuesday night. You were shot a few days before that when we were boarded by the Jupiterian military.” Nureyev clears his throat. “Do you remember what happened when you woke up last?”

 

Juno shuts his eye tight. “Did I hurt anyone?” he asks.

 

“No, of course not. Just gave us all a scare and pulled all your stitches.”

 

The hand in his hair feels so nice.

 

“I’m sorry,” Juno says, and he means it. “I’m so sorry I got hurt and freaked out. I’ll do better next time.”

 

“What?” Nureyev says incredulously.

 

“What?” Juno says defensively. “Can you untie me?”

 

Peter’s hands move to his bindings. Juno admires every inch of him.

 

Peter is loosening the ties around Juno’s ankles when he says, “Did you just apologize for getting hurt?”

 

“…yes?”

 

He sits down at Juno’s bedside. “You are an idiot, detective,” he says kindly.

  
Juno scowls. “I’m sorry I spend too much time out of commission, I’ll be up and ready for our next mission and you can tell Buddy that.” Juno hauls himself to a sitting position, prepares to swing his legs out of the bed.

 

Peter puts his hand on Juno’s chest and pushes him gently down onto the bed. Juno privately thinks this is extremely attractive and immediately pushes the thought away. “Absolutely not. I didn’t untie you so you could re-injure yourself.” Nureyev looks directly at Juno. “Do you remember how you got shot?”

 

Juno looks away from the piercing gaze. “No.”

 

“You were protecting Rita from the soldiers who were trying to kidnap her.” Nureyev shakes his head. “You’ve never really been part of a team before, have you?”

 

Juno doesn’t respond.

 

“I know I speak for Buddy and the rest of the team when I say, you should not always be the one to risk your life.” Nureyev sighs, and his next words are strained. “I know you often… prefer to be self-sacrificing, but that’s not how being here works.”

 

“Nureyev, I – “

 

“No, I… let me finish, please. I have a question. Do you still want to die? Because I’ve been thinking about what happened… with Miasma, and I – I think you wanted to die in the Martian tomb. You did it because you wanted to.”

 

Juno shuts his eye. Pain meds make it hard to deflect, but he doesn’t want to deflect this time. “Yeah, I did, but I don’t want to now. Nureyev, I am so sorry for what I did –“

 

Nureyev stands abruptly, and Juno flinches a little. “You should have talked to me, Juno. I gave you so much of myself, and I feel  - I feel like I don’t have much of myself left. I don’t want you to apologize, but will you – will you please just tell me why you left?”

 

Juno coughs weakly. “I – I wasn’t doing so good. I was – I was okay, until you said you loved me, and I – I couldn’t subject you to that. I couldn’t subject you to a front-row ticket to my self-destructive bullshit. I regret it every day, but I couldn’t put you through it. And I didn’t think I could talk about it. I wasn’t… ready. To leave Hyperion. But I am now.” Juno takes a deep breath. “You know about my mother and my brother, and I know that’s not an excuse, but. I had a cybernetic eye this year, and it’s a long story, but I met Jet and Buddy getting it removed. And during the operation, I understood some things about my life, and how I can, well, move forward?” Juno hates that it’s a question, but it is. “I’m working on myself, for the first time since I quit taking drugs, and I feel… better. I don’t want to throw my life away. Not anymore.” He takes another deep breath. His chest hurts, but he looks Nureyev in the eyes. “I walked out on you, and I can’t undo that, but I can try to make up for it.”

 

Nureyev looks away. “I should tell Vespa you’re awake,” he says quietly, and leaves the room.  

 

+++

 

It takes weeks for Juno to recover. He apologizes to Vespa, to Jet, to Rita. He and Nureyev aren’t talking much more, but a little bit of the awkwardness and tension between them clears.

 

One night, Vespa knocks on his door. Juno is sitting at his desk, staring at nothing. His eyes snap down to Vespa’s as she comes in.

 

“Hey, Steel,” she says. “I think you misinterpreted something I said.”

 

“What?” he says defensively. “I’m taking the pills like you told me to.”

 

“Not that, idiot,” she says. “I told you not to come back to the infirmary after you got shot in the leg on Venus.”

 

Juno raises his eyebrows expectantly.

 

“I just meant…” Vespa growls in frustration. “I saw that scar on your side. You didn’t come to me about it. I just meant you need to keep yourself safer, okay?”

 

“I’m sorry I take up so much of your time, Vespa,” Juno says, exhausted. “I’ll try to be better.”

 

“No! For fuck’s sake. Don’t get injured as much. So you’ll be safer. So you don’t get hurt! That’s what I meant. Not that I don’t want to take care of your injuries. Okay?”

 

Juno is confused. “I’m not sure I follow.”

 

“Just… think about it, okay?” Vespa manages before she slips out of the room. She turns. “And another thing. If you ever wanna talk about the scars on your legs, I’m here.”

 

Juno sits dumbly in his room for an hour after that, rolling Vespa’s words over and over in his mind.

 

+++

 

Juno is happy to be off of medical leave. He feels better, finally. He and Nureyev smiled at each other yesterday. Life is better. He hasn’t needed the pocketknife in a while. He’s adjusting.

 

He feels well enough to join Rita in the rec room on the third day he’s allowed to get out of bed. It feels good, to walk and stretch and take care of himself. He even goes to the kitchen first and gets himself a glass of water.

 

He settles next to Rita on the couch. The stream is bad – they all are – but entertaining, at least. He and Rita laugh at the jokes, and Juno cries a bit at the sad parts.

 

“Boss! Didja see how Penelope turned into a dragon!!!! I mean, there was foreshadowing, but I didn’t expect her to turn into a dragon and fly away! Especially not to rescue her mortal enemy!”

 

“Rita. This stream is called ‘Dragons of Sky and Land,’ of course she turned into a dragon.”

 

“Hmph. No sense of wonder. You gotta let the stream surprise you!”

 

Juno chuckles. “Okay, Rita. Okay.”

 

Rita pauses the stream and looks at him. “Hey boss, can I ask you a question?”

 

“Yeah, Rita.”

 

“Are ya happy here? Like, is this better than being in Hyperion? Because I love our crime family a lot. But you’re my best friend and if you don’t like it you have to say so.”

 

“No, I, uh, I want to stay. I – I like being here.” Juno shifts uncomfortably.

 

“Great! Buddy asked me if you might want to leave since bein’ here ain’t exactly been great for your health, but I told her that you were usually more injured in Hyperion City and she rolled her eyes a bunch and – “

 

“Wait, Rita, does Buddy want me to leave?” Juno is on edge. He wants to jump up, confront Buddy.

 

“No, why?” Rita crams a handful of salmon puffs in her mouth.

 

“Because I’m a liability. I get injured too much.” Juno says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

 

Rita throws a salmon puff at his head. “Boss, you just ain’t smart about these things!”

 

“What?” Juno asks dumbly.

 

“The rest ‘a the crew an’ me don’t want you put in danger all the time! We want you to be safe and not stick your neck out for everyone when you don’t have to. That’s all!”

 

“…Oh,” Juno says eventually.

 

“Yeah,” Rita emphasizes.

 

“I’m a bit of an idiot, huh?”

 

“Yeah, boss.”

 

+++

 

It’s very late when he goes back to his quarters after the conversation with Rita. Juno flips on the light and does a double take as Nureyev – who was clearly _sleeping in his bed_ – sits up abruptly.

 

“I – “ Nureyev splutters. His glasses fall off his face and he grabs for them before they hit the floor.

 

“Nureyev, what are you doing in my room?”

 

“I wanted to talk to you,” Nureyev said after composing himself. "Me, Peter Nureyev, not Anais Lim or Rex Glass or any of them. But... I must have fallen asleep waiting for you to come back from Rita's."

 

Juno sits in the desk chair. He’s still easily exhausted. “Okay. What would you like to talk about?”

 

“Did you leave because you didn’t love me?” Nureyev’s voice is small, and his eyes are wide.

 

Juno’s heart breaks in two. “No. I love – loved you. You, Peter Nureyev, not anyone else. No matter what. It was all me. I was a disaster.”

 

“Juno, do you still want me?” Nureyev sits up very straight.

 

“Yes,” Juno says with more feeling than a single syllable should be able to hold. “But you don’t have to forgive me just because I – “

 

“Forget about that. We can talk about it later. Juno, all I want to know right now is – can I kiss you?”

 

And maybe it’s a bad idea to do this before talking, but Juno’s never been the queen of good decisions. So he kisses Nureyev back with everything he’s got.

 

For a few seconds, everything is lips and teeth and hands trailing sides and backs.

 

Juno breaks free and smiles. “Why today?”

 

“I decided as soon as you got shot protecting Rita, but I had to wait until you were well enough,” Nureyev says, ever practical.

 

“Well, I’m just fine now,” Juno says. “What do you want, Nureyev? Anything.”

 

Nureyev looks abashed, and says “Would you call me Peter, dear?”

 

“Peter,” Juno says, and then they are kissing again. It’s good. It’s so good that Juno’s brain is quiet and he only feels Peter.

 

“Will you come here, darling?” Peter beckons, and Juno stands between his spread thighs and kisses him hard. Peter’s mouth moves to Juno’s neck, and Juno’s eye rolls back in his head. He’ll have hickeys tomorrow, but that’s just fine.

 

“Oh, Juno,” Peter mutters.

 

Juno feels fire under his skin, and he wants to – he wants. He sinks to his knees and looks up at Peter. Peter’s eyes are wide, and he nods.

 

Faster than Juno can think, the world has narrowed down to the apex of Peter’s thighs, where he licks and sucks as Peter groans. He whispers into Peter’s thigh. “Fuck my throat?”

 

“Are you sure, darling?”

 

Juno takes one of Peter’s palms and puts it in his hair before taking Peter’s cock down his throat. He’s good at this, and it’s gratifying to see Peter’s eyelashes flutter and chest heave. Peter’s hand tightens, helps him find a rhythm.

 

Peter’s eyes fly open and he begins to stutter a warning, but Juno keeps his grip on Peter’s hips. Peter comes deep down his throat with a long, low groan.

 

“Oh my god,” Peter says, voice wrecked. “Please get on the bed. Oh my god.”

 

Juno smirks, which turns into a gasp once he lays down and Peter puts his hand down Juno’s pants and wraps a skillful hand around his cock. Juno writhes and nearly screams with it. He comes hard into Peter’s hand with a shout.

 

“You’re loud, darling,” Peter says with a fox’s smile.

 

Juno feels stunned, floating, outside his own body, as Peter gets a tissue and cleans them both up. He’s ruined for other people, honestly. It’s as good as he remembers, even a year later –

 

“Juno?” Peter’s voice is low, but not in a sexy way.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“What’s this on your legs?”

 

The tissue is poised above the short, asymmetrical cuts littering his hips.

 

Juno shuts his eye tight. “Hit a rough patch,” he says, and hitches up his pants. He gets out of the bed, looks for his shoes.

 

“Where are you going?” Peter asks, eyes wide.

 

Juno stops. “I – don’t you want me to leave?”

 

Peter reaches out from the bed and takes his hand. “Decidedly not. How’s the rough patch now?” Peter asks seriously as Juno lays back down, confused.

 

“Bit better, I think,” Juno says as he buries his face in Peter’s chest. “I – I’m getting better.”

 

“Juno, if you need to talk, I’m here,” Peter says earnestly.

 

Juno raises his face from Peter’s chest and looks into his eyes. “Thank you, Peter.”

 

“Just one more thing, Juno,” Peter says, smile quirking up.

 

“Yeah?” Juno smiles back, dazed.

 

“I love you,” Peter says.

 

“That makes two of us,” Juno says breathlessly before they are kissing again.


End file.
